


Hesitations

by wiltedartist



Series: Dehlian Hawke [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-07 23:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiltedartist/pseuds/wiltedartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dehlian Hawke knows one thing and thing only: She has no idea as to how she will inform Fenris he will be a father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hesitations

Deep breaths, she reminded herself as she paced around the small room.

How hadn't she noticed right away? The first month, she must have had her head in the clouds. The second she must have just excused it away as she was chased. But now it was the third month- the third month without a sign of her unfortunate womanly curse. 

It was starting to seem less unfortunate.

She had realized it about a week ago, that it was strange. And she had taken her sudden hatred of fish as being around Fenris too often. He had ruined fish for her, that bastard. 

No.

He had gotten her pregnant.

She couldn't blame it all on him. She had completely at first, how could he be so stupid? But she had calmed down and realized they were both stupid. Fenris at least had the excuse that slaves were permitted no knowledge or luxury. Dehlian Hawke however, had just forgotten that she was not, in fact, immune to the common illnesses of man.

So now it was about how to tell him. How does one tell a former slave that he will have a child? While running away from that child's mother's. . . pursuers? How were they going to traverse the world with a crying child to give them away? She had thought of every idea, every solution. There was no answer. She ran her hand across her stomach, which had only the smallest of bulges. 

Hawke was afraid. Not just for her potential child to grow up with so many odds against it: half elf, potentially magic, parents on the run, - but for herself and Fenris as well. She had never cared about children, never wanted them. And here she was suddenly in a position where she had little choice. 

'We should have been cautious' she laughed morbidly to herself. Fenris was off probably getting the two of them a meal. She was resting for the first time in days, the strain on her mind making her ask if an inn was a possibility. She was tired of old houses and empty forests. She needed a bed. He obliged her. She thought of herself being 'fragile' and carrying a life inside of her. It didn't feel like her. She just-

She did not want to trap Fenris in another type of prison. She could always slip away, she had reasoned in the beginning. But she knew two things would occur, Fenris would feel genuinely betrayed at her, and two, if he ever found out she was carrying his child and ran for that reason, he would take a personal and deep offense and it would ruin whatever affection they had. Despite it's rough patches, she enjoyed her relationship with Fenris. Thanks to her family . . .well, Fenris was about all she had left. 

No , she shook her head in frustration, she loved Fenris. It took a lot of admission on her part to realize the three years apart early in their relationship had hurt her ability to admit just how deeply she wanted to be with Fenris. In fact, the both of them had made very clear their love and passion in actions rather than words. That was why they were in this mess, they loved each other and were the most comfortable admitting it physically. She laid back on the bed rather than continue her harsh steps around the room, and closed her eyes. 

How cruel would it be if she had a child with magic? How could she hurt Fenris in such a way? Her accursed genes, and his even. Varania had been a mage, afterall. Half elf with fugitive parents was one thing, but potential apostate? Hawke had determined long ago she would do anything to protect the last person dear to her. Bethany. . .she wasn't quite sure what happened to Bethany. The last living immediate family member, Bethany had told her sister she loved her in a heartfelt letter. She also admitted she didn't want to run forever. She wanted to fight. The thought of Bethany made Hawke ache for the days when family wasn't so foreign to her. When her brother would yell and scream at her for showing him up, when her father would glare at any boy who looked towards her-

The pain in her heart grew louder. Would Bethany even live to pass on the name of Hawke? And if she did, would it be torn from that child just as her freedom would be? The irony of it hit her suddenly.

Oh Maker she realized, she was likely the only person who could pass on the Hawke name. She opened her eyes to look down at her stomach with a strange feeling of realization. The thought that there would never again be a man like her father hit her point blank. Memories of the dearest member of her family flooded her mind. Kind hands guiding her from harm. Warm hugs whenever she was sad. The glares at any village boys who might wonder if they were worth the apostate's daughter. She missed her father, and the thought that the world would never know another man like him. . . 

If she did not have a child, it would end with her. The woman who watched everyone from her father to her mother die and the woman who was on the run because she was supposed to be some big damn hero. The hidden mage, the liar, the master of poisons- Dehlian Hawke would be the end.

She suddenly found an energy inside of her. If. . . if Fenris would somehow be alright with this. . .Maybe it would not be so bad. Maybe being a mother was not so foreign or wrong. She would not be her Mother or her Father. Her children would have a strong father who only wished for them to be free, and their mother – their mother would be strong for them no matter who they were. She was trying not to be afraid, but Maker was she terrified. So many thoughts were in her head- was this the right thing, how could it be anything but right, what were her choices, how would Fenris-

And at that moment, Fenris himself gave a knock of warning. 

“Dehlian,” he never called her 'Hawke' anymore for fear that it would be recognized, not unless they were alone and it was very very quiet. Nobody ever knew The Champion as Dehlian. She would never admit it, but she liked to have him call her by that name. Both was fine, but Dehlian was certainly more intimate. He opened the door and gave her a subtle smile and nod. “Still feeling tired?” he asked as he sat by her on the bed. On the bedside table he placed what seemed to be a half loaf of bread and an assortment of other small food items. They didn't hurt for money, but buying luxury meals at every stop made for suspicion. 

Dehlian put her hand on Fenris' arm. He paused for a moment, took off the spiked gauntlets on one hand, and then took the hand into his. Dehlian smiled and intimately stroked his hand, normally a sign of comfort, now it was just an attempt at comfort before she revealed the truth. She loved the feeling of his hands, of his whole body in fact. He was so warm. She felt frightened as she sat up and leaned against him. For once she felt like saying the things they never said. They only acted, never spoke about their feelings except in times of dire consequence. 

“Are you alright?” he suddenly said in a worried tone of voice. She realized she was trembling slightly. She looked at him. His eyes always seemed to take her in and capture her. If he looked at her with anger, she softened. If he looked at her with anguish, she filled with it as well. And if he looked at her with desire? Each and every time she would relent into his touch with great satisfaction. She looked at his eyes filled with concern, a look so unlike him, and frowned. 

“I. . .” she stuttered as she looked away. Two years of running. Two years with Fenris, one year of which was spent only with him. She felt his un-gloved hand caress her chin and then slowly turn her face towards him. When had he been able to love her so deeply he could do such a thing? And would it change now? 

“Tell me what troubles you,” he asked in a manner she could not ignore. She took his hand and timidly pressed it against what must seem like nothing. Her stomach, her womb- where their child was growing. “Hawke?” he breathed lightly. His face was close and she turned to face him. 

“I believe. . .I am going to be the mother of your child, soon,” she could not just say 'pregnant'. She could not just use one word to express the severity of their situation. The heavy words made their impact and he paused. Her hand still rested on his atop her stomach, but his hand suddenly pressed against it on his own. 

She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He suddenly shifted her weight, to her surprise, and was sitting on the bed fully now, with her pressed slightly against him. When her mother died he knew he could not say much. And now. . . she had said all she could. It was up to him to respond. So she remained quiet, somehow content in the stifled silence as he curiously allowed his warm fingers to gently stroke her stomach. His head was pressed against hers, so she could not see the look upon his face. 

“An elven slave for a father, a fugitive mage for a mother? We have adequately stacked the deck against our own child,” he breathed out in a voice that was wrought with either sadness or sarcasm. She suspected it was both. She laughed weakly. 

“No one knows that part but you, but genetics wise, I do believe we have drawn an unlucky hand,” she took the gauntlet from his other hand in order to do as she had done earlier. Instead he grasped her hand in a manner she had seldom felt from him.

“Hawke, I. . .” he began with hesitation. “I do not know what to say. I cannot help but feel a desire for this child that I am not it's father,” Hawke almost recoiled, but, “I. . .do not misunderstand. The thought of a family- a child with you- no matter the unfortunate circumstances. . . it is a privilege I do not think I ever considered or believed might occur. But a woman like you, a truly beautiful and strong woman. . .any child you have deserves happiness and fulfillment. I do not know if. . . I do not know if I could ever be a father that child would deserve,” 

The pain in his voice was clear. Hawke broke from his grasp only to give him a look of sadness mixed with smarm. She ran her fingers down his markings and looked at him in the eye. She saw genuine pain, the likes of which only Hadriana and Danarius or the thought of losing her had ever produced visibly, and smiled at him. 

“My dear Fenris,” she whispered. “If our child is to be anything like me, it will never know happiness without you,” Fenris' eyes softened. The pain was clear, and confusion and dilemma strained him. He cupped her cheeks. Hawke never said things that sweet, that deeply touching. Neither of them did. 

“Just tell me if you do not wish this burden. . .you can leave if it is what you desire, but it is. . .not what I desire,” Fenris' expression went from soft to sharp in an instant. He pulled her into a tight embrace and placed his chin atop her head. 

“Must I tell you again that nothing could be worse than living without you? Yet you tell me that you're going to have my child and it worries you I will not wish to be with you? I have never had a family, not one that ever loved me. And you're worried that granting me something I wished for and never found would cause me irritation? You are certainly a curious woman,” Hawke closed her eyes and laughed.

“Well, we won't have to worry about discipline, if they misbehave we can always tell them how mummy and daddy defeated a dragon,” Fenris let out a familiar chuckle. 

“Or how their mother singlehandedly defeated the Arishok?” 

“Don't go comparing us, I just look prettier on statues,” she said as she moved her face near his.. 

“You do,” he agreed with her joke as he moved in to kiss her.

There was an abundance of silence for a time as he softly held onto her, no mentions of desperate topics for either of them. They both were thinking of the consequences, the fears, the worst possible outcome- but Dehlian Hawke would never quite realize that Fenris' hand almost never left the odd comfort of her stomach. And why would she notice? 

The warmth of his hand perfectly complimented the life they had created.

**Author's Note:**

> Fenris just deserves all the babies idk??


End file.
